Being Elizabeth (5 page)

‘What is it? Why are you looking at me like that?'

‘Here's an idea, Elizabeth. Why don't you ask Blanche Parrell to get your clothes organized? She did that for you for years when you were growing up. Let her shop for you, select skirt suits, trouser suits, coats, shoes, accessories. Everything, actually. She can get things together here, and all you have to do is try them on, choose and discard. And you can do it at night.'

Elizabeth's expression brightened. ‘That's a fantastic idea, Kat! And I've got another one. Would you take over the running of this apartment and Ravenscar? I've been doing that myself, as you know, but I don't think I'll have much time in the future. The demands on me at Deravenels will be huge.'

‘But Ravenscar is Lucas's bailiwick, isn't it? Won't he resent interference from me?'

‘No, he won't. Anyway, you'll only be supervising, visiting occasionally, making sure the estate is all right, and the exteriors of the house in good condition. You won't be intruding in any of the domestic arrangements. Lucas and his wife Marta manage the house very well, and we have a few women from the village who come in and help with the cleaning. As for this apartment, there's not much to supervise, I realize that, and certainly Angelina is a good housekeeper. But there's Waverley Court in Kent. I've been going down every few weeks to make sure that there are no problems. I won't be able to do that now, not with the workload I'm facing.'

Kat didn't have to think twice. ‘Of course I'll do it! Actually, I think I'd enjoy it … what you're proposing is that I become a steward, as they were called a century ago, someone who administers properties, houses, estates, and the finances of those places. Am I correct?'

‘Yes.' Leaning forward, Elizabeth went on, ‘Then there's Stonehurst Farm to think of. Grace Rose gave it to my father years ago, and Mary always used it, just as she used the old house in Chelsea. What about those properties? Actually, what am
I
going to do with them, Kat?'

‘You don't want to live in the Chelsea house?'

‘No, I don't. I like this apartment.'

‘That house has been in the family for years. It was passed down from Richard Deravenel to your grandmother, and Bess left it to your father. ‘If I remember correctly he lived there, too, at one time.'

‘But he never went to Stonehurst Farm. As you know, he preferred Waverley Court when he wanted to stay in the south of England. He loved Ravenscar the best, as I do.'

‘I remember. But look here, let's go into your study and make a list of what you'll need me to attend to, Elizabeth. Personally, I think I will have to concentrate on the house in Chelsea and Stonehurst Farm first, since Mary has been living in both places for years. Someone will have to deal with all of her possessions, sort them out.'

‘Oh, God, you're right. I hadn't thought about that. And there's something else, Kat.' Elizabeth jumped up, and beckoned for Kat to follow as she headed for her study. ‘I've got all these bank vaults to inspect. Would you help me with those?'

‘Naturally. I'll take over, don't you worry. What you have to do is concentrate on Deravenels, and the running of it.'

Later that day Elizabeth recalled Kat's words about concentrating on Deravenels and running it; when she had said them this morning, they had struck a chord in her mind. Now she remembered. Her father had said something similar to her when she was nine years old. But about himself, not her. That particular day had always stayed in her mind, the memory of it very clear. It had been the day her father had welcomed her back into the family … such a happy day. She leaned her head back in the chair and closed her eyes, remembering …

‘Don't stand there, hanging back like that,' Harry Turner said, his blue eyes roaming over the young girl standing before him in the library.

The girl nodded, took a step closer to him, clearing her throat.

Frowning, he asked in a pleasant voice, ‘Surely you're not afraid of me, Elizabeth, are you?'

Having always said she was not afraid of anyone or anything, Elizabeth denied this at once. ‘No, Father, I'm not afraid of you. However, we're not very well acquainted, are we? Perhaps I'm a little shy.'

A smile tugged at his mouth, and then he said, ‘Don't be shy with me, I'm your father. Now come, give me a kiss.'

Elizabeth walked forward and Harry bent down so she could kiss him on the cheek. Then he said, ‘I hear that you are doing well at school, that you are an exceptional student. That pleases me, Elizabeth.'

Putting her hand in her green blazer pocket, Elizabeth pulled out an envelope and offered it to him. ‘This is for you, Father. My school report.'

Nodding, he took it from her, and read it. ‘Congratulations are in order, I see!' he exclaimed, a wide smile spreading across his face. ‘You're the top of your class, and you have an A-plus in everything. Good Lord, do you really speak five languages?' He stared at her, obviously impressed.

‘If you include English, yes.'

He laughed. ‘And what are the other four?'

‘Latin, French, Italian and German.'

‘German's tough to master. Clever girl, clever girl, Elizabeth. Now turn around, let me look at you properly.'

She did as he asked, feeling able to smile at him, feeling more relaxed, less intimidated.

‘By God, you're a true Turner!' he cried. ‘My red-gold hair, my height, and my father's lean build. And a Deravenel as well. You have my mother's colouring, yes indeed. Well, I can't say I mind having a true Turner for a daughter. I'm rather chuffed about it, actually. Now let's go to the dining room and have lunch, and I shall tell you all about Deravenels, and how I run it.'

Elizabeth looked up at him, and a wide smile spread across
her face. ‘I'd like that, Father, and perhaps one day you will take me to Deravenels.'

‘After lunch,' he promised, getting hold of her hand and leading her to the dining room in the Chelsea house.

Sitting up in the chair, Elizabeth pushed herself to her feet and went into her dressing room, stood staring at herself in the mirror. Yes, she was a true Turner all right, with a large dose of Deravenel thrown in.

The smile lingered on her face as she went into the library and sat down at the desk in the corner. How could she ever forget that day …? The day she was rehabilitated and became something of a favourite of his … the day she had started to admire him, understanding what an extraordinary tycoon he was. And love for him had softened all that hatred, which had formed around her like a carapace. She would always have mixed feelings about her father, but loving him had become easier as the next few years had passed, and by the time he died there was little hatred left. She was glad of that.

‘C
ome on, Elizabeth, stop dithering and let's go,' Robert Dunley said, staring hard at her. ‘We don't have to stay very long if you don't want to, but I do think it's a good idea to have a look around.'

‘Oh, all right,' she answered after another moment of hesitation. Robert had invited her to have Sunday lunch at the Savoy, but when she had arrived a few minutes ago he had told her they first had to go over to Deravenels.

Nodding, looking pleased, he now took hold of her arm, propelled her through the hotel lobby and out into the forecourt. Within seconds they were crossing the Strand, heading for the humungous building that was Deravenels.

‘What is it that you want me to see, actually?' she asked curiously.

‘It's a surprise.' His dark brown eyes filled with laughter. ‘And I can't wait to see your face.'

‘But
what
is it?' she probed, impatient to know what this was.

‘Can't tell you,' he answered firmly as they came to a stop in front of the huge double door of the building. Robert immediately punched a number into the keypad embedded
in the stone wall to the left of the door, and stood back, waiting.

A split-second later, a disembodied voice came through the intercom system: ‘Good morning. Who is it, please?'

‘Good morning, Alfred, it's Robert Dunley.'

‘Thank you, sir. Please enter.'

There was a loud buzzing noise; Robert pushed the heavy door and, as it sprang open, he escorted Elizabeth inside.

Standing waiting for them in the central lobby was the weekend commissionaire, Alfred Vine. His face lit up at the sight of Elizabeth and he exclaimed, ‘Miss Turner! What a pleasure to see you. Welcome back.'

‘It's nice to see you, too, Alfred.' Elizabeth gave him a warm smile; she had known him for years, as she had most of the service staff.

‘I was sorry to hear about Mrs Turner Alvarez,' the commissionaire went on in a low tone. ‘My condolences, Miss Turner.'

‘Thank you, that's kind of you.'

Robert said, ‘We're going up to the executive offices, Alfred, we won't be very long.'

‘Take your time, sir, no problem.'

Elizabeth glanced around as the two of them walked across the gargantuan marble foyer, their footsteps clattering loudly as they made for the great double staircase that flowed up to the first floor. How impressed she had been with this foyer when she was a young girl; it had intimidated her. She smiled to herself. Perhaps it still did in a certain way. It was impressive, no two ways about that.

‘It's very quiet this morning, Robin,' Elizabeth said, and instantly looked startled as her voice echoed back to her. ‘Oh, goodness, I'd forgotten about the echo in here.'

‘Had you now?' Robert glanced at her, grinning. ‘Don't you remember the time we first discovered it? We were about ten and started “making echoes”, as you called it, by screaming and shouting. There was hell to pay.'

‘God, yes, I do remember! Your father and mine were absolutely furious with us, because of the noise we made. But it was Sunday, and the place was deserted, just as it is this morning. I never quite understood the fuss.'

‘My father docked my spending money. What did yours do?'

Elizabeth chuckled. ‘I can't recall, just shouted at me, I think.'

They went on up the staircase in silence, headed down the main corridor and stopped outside the managing director's office. Robert said, ‘Close your eyes. I want this to
really
be a surprise.'

Elizabeth did as he asked; he took hold of her hand, led her into the office, switched on the overhead light and said, ‘Okay, you can open your eyes.'

She did so and instantly gasped. ‘Oh, my God!
Robin!
How on earth did you manage to do this?' As she spoke, her eyes swept around the room, swiftly taking everything in, and then she turned around and hugged him. ‘It's Father's office once again, not
hers
! Oh, thank you!'

‘Do you like it?' he asked eagerly, as always, wishing to please her.

‘I love it, can't you tell?' She walked slowly around the large room which had been occupied in the last hundred years by Richard Deravenel, his son Edward Deravenel, and Edward's youngest brother Richard. Then it had been her grandfather's, and after Henry Turner died, her father Harry had occupied it for years.

Because Edward Selmere had been the administrator, running the company on behalf of her younger brother, he had used another office on the executive floor. Once Mary had become managing director it was her domain, as was proper, but she had made a mess of it, in Elizabeth's opinion.

Looking at Robert, Elizabeth asked, ‘What on earth did you do with all that ghastly modern furniture Mary bought?'

‘I chucked it out, with Cecil's agreement, of course,' Robert laughed, added, ‘I was happy to see the last of it. And look,
Elizabeth, over there on the wall behind the desk … it's the famous old map of the world, which Mary had sent down to storage. I rescued it and put it back where it belongs.'

Rushing over to the map, she said, ‘And you had it reframed, from the look of it.'

‘I did, and now you can see the map much better because I had new glass put in.'

‘Robin, how lovely of you to do all this. Thank you, thank you, you've made me so happy.' She sat down at the beautiful Georgian desk that had been used by those of her ancestors who had run this company before her, smoothed her hands over the fine leather top, reverentially, momentarily lost in thought. A few seconds later, rousing herself, she took stock once more, noting the rich cream colour on the walls, the antique Chesterfield sofa with its highly polished, dark-green leather gleaming in the light from the various lamps. ‘It's all here, isn't it, Robin? All of the things my father appreciated so much.'

‘And his father before him, and the Deravenels,' Robert replied. ‘It's even the same Persian rug. However, I want you to know I
did
have that cleaned! It all started about three weeks ago when I asked Cecil if I could have the walls repainted before you came back. I'm sure you remember that awful dreary steel-grey paint Mary had chosen. Cecil told me to do whatever I wished, and it suddenly struck us both that the furniture Mary had bought wasn't right, either for this office or for you. So …
voilà
! And I'm thrilled you're happy with everything.'

‘I am.'

‘Then let me take you to lunch to celebrate your return to Deravenels and your new job as the boss lady.'

Many heads turned as they walked through the lobby of the Savoy Hotel on their way to the restaurant. They were both
good looking, and Elizabeth was almost as tall as Robert. They made a handsome, elegant couple, and Elizabeth was particularly arresting with her startlingly white skin and auburn hair. She had chosen to wear a tailored, purple wool coat and dress that showed off her slender figure to perfection, while the purple-and-green silk scarf was a dashing addition to the outfit.

Robert Dunley was well aware of the swathe they cut as they walked through the restaurant. They usually did. They both loved fashionable clothes, and he was something of a peacock. As for Elizabeth, she had always had style and a certain flair, wore unique outfits by Joseph, Versace, and Cavalli in strong colours with great aplomb. In fact, they both had enormous self-confidence and were sure of themselves when it came to their taste in clothing.

After sitting down at a window table overlooking the Thames and ordering two glasses of champagne, Robert took hold of her hand and squeezed it. ‘Aren't you glad we went to the office?'

Elizabeth agreed. ‘Yes, I am, you were absolutely right, but then you usually are. Nobody understands me like you do, Robin darling. I realize how much I was dreading going there tomorrow, and your little preview has made me feel more at ease. And thank you again for the work you did on Father's office. I hated what Mary had created, that abysmal steel-and-glass trap, and couldn't bear the thought of using it.'

‘I shudder when I think of it, and actually I enjoyed dumping her stuff, bringing back all those lovely old pieces from the storage unit downstairs. It was not only fun but a labour of love,' Robert reassured her.

At this moment the waiter arrived with their flutes of champagne, and after toasting each other Elizabeth asked, ‘What do you think I ought to do with the Chelsea house?'

‘Do you want to live there?' Robert asked.

‘I don't know … I don't think so. But now, looking out at the river flowing by, I can't help thinking how beautiful the
Thames is this morning, especially in the brilliant sunshine. Don't forget, the house runs right down to the river's edge.'

‘It's an important old house architecturally, and you would get rather a lot for it, I'm certain, but don't make any hasty decisions. You might well enjoy living there, but you don't have to decide right now, do you?'

‘No, I don't, and anyway, I'll know what condition it's in from Kat. She's going to give it a thorough looking over. You see, she's taking charge of my properties.' Elizabeth grinned at him, and added, ‘Kat accepted my offer to be my
steward
. I know it's a very old-fashioned job description, but that's
exactly
what she'll be doing – the work a steward used to do.'

‘And Kat will do a marvellous job! She's one of the most efficient people I know.' He sat back, frowned, and asked, ‘What were you telling me about Blanche Parrell earlier?'

‘Blanche is, at this very moment, throwing all of my clothes away, at least that's what she was doing earlier, before I left this morning. On Kat's advice, she's taken control of my wardrobe, and so far the pile for Oxfam is enormous. It seems she's about to select a lot of new clothes for me. She wants me to look the part for my new job.'

‘And why not?' Robert murmured, then reaching into his pocket he took out a folded piece of paper, said quietly, ‘I have something for you, something you should see. It
is
a bit lethal, but I don't want you to be upset –'

‘What is it?' she cut in, her brows puckering together. His words of warning and his solemn expression had telegraphed that the paper was not only problematic but also of vital importance to her.

‘Read it for yourself,' Robert said, ‘and we'll discuss, then we'll order lunch.' He handed her the piece of paper.

Elizabeth saw immediately that it was a bank transfer, and it was signed by Mary Turner Alvarez. Her sister, three years earlier, had transferred fifty million euros to her new husband in Madrid,
Philip Alvarez. Shocked, she stared at the paper, reading it again. A furious anger swept over her, and her hand shook as she clutched the paper. She exclaimed in a low but angry tone, ‘I can't believe this! She must have been insane, besotted or brainwashed by him.'

‘All of those things, perhaps,' Robert replied.

A terrible thought struck Elizabeth, and she asked in a hoarse whisper, ‘Do you think this was Deravenel money or her own?'

‘I'm not sure. I can't really tell from the bank transfer.'

‘Cecil told me she invested seventy-five million euros in Philip's real estate development schemes. Did you know that?'

‘I'd heard rumours that she had been overly generous, but I didn't know the amount.'

‘Please don't let Cecil know I've told you that.'

‘I won't,' Robert promised.

Elizabeth asked, ‘How did you get this bank transfer?'

‘Never mind.'

‘Surely you can tell
me
, Robin.'

‘I'd rather you didn't know … well, let's just say this … I've worked at Deravenels for years, my father and grandfather also worked there. And guess what … people have a bad habit of not changing locks.'

‘What you're saying is that you have a great many keys?' Elizabeth stared at him knowingly.

‘You've got it.'

‘This transfer is obviously a copy, isn't it?'

‘Yes. The original is where it should be. You can keep it if you want, but don't take it to the office. Lock it up in your safe at home. I actually came across it quite by accident, and wanted you to have it … Forewarned is forearmed. God knows what you're going to find when you start digging, but I want you to be ahead of the game, Elizabeth.'

‘I have to tell Cecil. I'm absolutely certain the fifty million came from her personal bank account.'

‘Of course. He has to know,' Robert answered. He eyed her closely, and murmured, ‘You're not as upset as I thought you would be.'

‘I'm bloody furious, if you want the truth! However, Cecil's news last week forced me to recognize that the seventy-five million euros she gave to Philip might well be just the tip of the iceberg.'